


a little mental yoga

by yellowwarbler



Category: DCU (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26632102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowwarbler/pseuds/yellowwarbler
Summary: Tim isn't handling Kon's death well. Someone wearing Kon's face resumes living Kon's life. These two things may be related.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Match
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16
Collections: DCU Rarepair Exchange 2020





	a little mental yoga

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wellthatjusthappend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthatjusthappend/gifts).



> (This takes place shortly shortly after Kon's death and ignores Titans East completely. )
> 
> Wellthatjusthappened, you asked for Tim/Match and I started with your prompt "breaking the rules" and ended up here ^^; .... It's been a long time since I thought about Match, and this prompted me to do some rereading of his appearances in Superboy. I hope you enjoy!

"You haven't been to the Tower lately."

Tim grimaces. He holds his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he digs through his locker. He knows he kept that data stick around here somewhere. "I've been busy." His own project hasn't been put on hold just because someone claiming he's Kon showed up. Tim knows better than to put all his eggs in one basket.

Cassie sighs on the other end of the line. In the background, Tim hears someone laughing. "He's back, Tim. He's _been_ back. For a whole month! And you've been totally AWOL," she says finally. Tim knew this particular conversation was coming, but he doesn't want to have it now. Cassie doesn't magically pick up on that from his sullen silence. She keeps talking. "I know it's hard, believe me. No one gets it more than I do. But you have to let it stop eating at you. Forget what happened. He's _alive_ , Tim. And he misses his best friend."

Tim's hand finally grasps the data stick. He closes the locker. "I've been busy," he says again. "I'll be there this weekend."

"I'm holding you to that," Cassie warns. She's probably planning to show up in Gotham if he ditches them again.

Tim ends the call and slides the phone into the pocket of his jeans. The cave is empty, save for Tim and the bats. He hears the rustle of their wings and their soft cooing, comfortably familiar sounds. It keeps his hands steady. He needs to be alone for this. Bruce is at work, Damian at school, and Alfred running errands. Tim should be at school. But he _needs_ to know. He's been watching the Tower since Kon came back. Kon hasn't left, not to visit Smallville and not to see Clark. Tim watched Kon tell Cassie and the others he "needed time". 

Tim watched a lot of things over the last month.

He turns the feed on that shows the common areas in the Tower, flipping through the different views until he finds Cassie and Kon in the kitchen. Cassie is talking agitatedly about something, her hands in constant motion. Probably about Tim. Tim leaves the sound on mute. 

Kon is listening, his gaze unblinking. He doesn't look relaxed, not really, but his whole body slouches toward Cassie, like a plant drinking up sunlight. Tim leaves the feed up and inserts the data stick into the console, watching the upload begin. 

On the Tower feed, Cassie wraps her arms around Kon, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Tim watches Kon. He doesn't miss the way he freezes up for a few seconds before reciprocating. 

The upload completes. Tim opens the file on The Agenda and Project MATCH. The first part is a video of a Superboy clone. He appears at first as Kon's exact opposite, the nearly white hair and eyes, his rigid posture, the robotic way he speaks. But at the end of the clip, he reveals the ability to manipulate his appearance. His hair turns dark, his eyes blue. That blank look on Match's face, so out of place on that achingly familiar face, sends chills up Tim's spine. He looks again at the Tower feed. Cassie hasn't moved from where she plastered herself to Kon. Kon appears to be staring blankly at a nearby wall, rubbing Cassie's back in jerky, repetitive circles.

Tim turns the feed off. He pulls the data stick out. When the computer prompts him with a request to save the upload, Tim hesitates for a few seconds before he selects DELETE. He pockets the data stick. 

Observe, then react. Tim needs more information.

***

Tim doesn't wait til Saturday to go to the Tower. He doesn't want to give Match time to prepare, if that is in fact who's stepped into Kon's life like a pair of well-worn shoes. Instead, he flies there directly after patrol early on a Wednesday morning. With the time difference, the sun hasn't even begun to rise when the Batplane touches down on the Tower's landing pad. It's nearly two am in San Francisco. Tim won't be the only one awake, but he has the advantage of adrenaline from patrol still running through his veins. He's still in uniform, the sweat on his body and in his hair long since cooled. He briefly considers changing into civvies before searching out the imposter, but he decides against it. He might need the shard of kryptonite from his utility belt if things go sideways.

He heads straight for Kon's room, careful to avoid the other Titans. Tim can't be distracted, and he can't let on about his theory until he has solid evidence to back it up. They're already tiptoeing around Tim like he's seconds away from exploding. He doesn't want to see the pity in Cassie's eyes again. He just wants to fix things. Is that so hard to understand?

The light is still on in Kon's room, visible under the door and glowing dimly in the dark hallway. Tim is certain Match heard him coming the moment the Batplane touched down, but he knocks anyway. It's what he would have done for Kon.

It's Kon's face that greets Tim when the door opens. Kon's face and, after an uncomfortably long beat, Kon's smile. "Robin, what are you doing here so late? Cassie said you weren't dropping by til this weekend."

"I wanted to see you," Tim said, noting the _Robin_ , not just Rob. "I just couldn't bring myself to come before. I was...afraid. I can't stop thinking about what happened to you. I didn't want to remember you dying." He watches Match's face for any of Kon's tells, for the way his brows would dip down when he was worried, for the way he would square his jaw before he broached a difficult topic. Match might be Kon's splitting image, but he doesn't have Kon's mannerisms. He _isn't_ Kon. "Can I come in?"

Match steps back, opening the door wider for Tim. "Sure." He closes the door again the moment Tim steps inside. "What's up?" He's moved on completely from Tim's admission. Kon would still be reeling from that sheer level of emotional vulnerability from Tim. Another mark in favor of Tim' hypothesis.

How Match managed to fool Cassie and the others is beyond Tim. There's nothing behind Match's eyes, no semblance of a soul, no emotion. "I missed you," Tim tries again. He closes the distance between them. Curiously, Match reciprocates. He must be reading the body language of whoever interacts with him, Tim decides. Then Match reacts accordingly. 

"I missed you too," Match says. 

Tim ducks his head and moves away, sitting on the edge of the bed. Kon's room is exactly the same as it was on the day he died, right down to the pile of dirty laundry beside his desk. "How did you survive?"

"I'm not sure." 

Tim nods. It's the answer Match has given everyone so far. The leading theory is that the sun revived him, like it has for Superman so many times. "Cassie was really happy when you came back."

"Yeah," Match agrees. 

"Did The Agenda assign you here?" Tim asks at last. He has his hand on his utility belt, ready to open the compartment with the kryptonite, but the attack he expects never comes.

Match sits down next to him. "They didn't," he says. "I escaped. How did you know? No one else noticed."

Privately, Tim wonders the same. "I know Kon better than anyone," is all he can say. "You're nothing like him."

"I was scheduled for termination. I got out after Superboy's death. He's gone, you know. He's not using this life. Why can't I have it?"

"You don't get to just walk in and take up someone else's life," Tim points out, grimacing when the hypocrisy of his own words versus his plan hits him. "You should just be your own person." The situation is becoming more surreal by the moment. Tim thinks he would have preferred violence. 

"I'm not, though," Match says, sounding irritatingly reasonable, like Tim is the one at fault. "I was created with a greater purpose, to take Superboy's place. It seems to make everyone happy." He pauses, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "Everyone but you, I suppose."

Not even his syntax resembles Kon's. Is Match just dropping the act? Or did the Titans really miss so much? Tim is baffled. "Why would this make me happy?"

"You said it yourself. You miss him." Match spreads his arms wide. "I can be him for you, too."

 _Well that's fucked up_ is unfortunately Tim's second reaction. His first is a shameful desire to throw his arms around Match and play dumb for the rest of his life.

"I need to think about this," Tim says. 

"You won't tell?" Match presses. He drops his arms but scoots closer to Tim. Their thighs press together.

Tim doesn't move away. Match's body heat runs high, just like Kon's did. "Not yet," Tim allows. "I just--I have to think."

"Well," Match says, gesturing to the door, "I'm certainly not stopping you."

***

Tim hits the showers and changes into sweats before crawling into bed. His heart is racing. It hasn't slowed down since he left Match's room. 

Match isn't Kon. Tim _knows_ this. Apparently he's the only who does, but the fact remains. Match _isn't_ Kon...but he's not far off.

Tim thinks about the half-written algorithm on his private server, of the equipment list he's already started assembling. It feels more real now, with Match wandering around the Tower. Isn't this exactly what Tim wanted?

No, he thinks. Not exactly. But it's close enough.

He manages to doze off for a few hours. His dreams are wild technicolor visions of Match kissing Cassie without his altered appearance. Tim keeps trying to get away from them, but they're behind every door he opens. Match is always looking at Tim, never Cassie.

A knock on Tim's door wakes him. "I know you're in there!"

"Give me a minute, Cassie," Tim shouts. He's not sure he wants to see her. He knows too much. Tim is complicit in Match's deception now. If he sees her, the guilt will be inescapable.

"Well hurry up!"

Tim rolls out of bed and grabs his phone. The first message is from Dick, same as all the others. Tim deletes it without opening it and puts his phone back on the bedside table. 

When he opens the door, he can hear a cacophony of voices from the common room, Cassie's carrying above the others. There's a lightness to the Tower Tim hasn't felt since before Kon died. He doesn't know what to think about that.

"Hey." At the other end of the hall leading away from the common room, Match waves Tim down. _Come here_ he mouths before disappearing around the corner.

Tim watches him go, looks toward the common room, then shrugs. He follows Match.

Match is waiting in front of Kon's room. He pulls Tim in and closes the door. He looks nervous, the first real display of emotion Tim's seen on him beyond petty jealousy and anger, and even those were only in footage from Match's interactions with Kon. "Are you going to tell them?"

"No," Tim says. "I'm not. But I'll be watching you closely. If you slip up, it'll hurt them."

"I won't slip up," Match says, eager. "You can show me how to be him, can't you? You said you knew him better than anyone."

For a split second, the sickening guilt returns. But Tim shoves it down. This isn't far from his original plan. A clone of Kon would require even more coaching to be passable. Match only needs a little fine-tuning. 

"Fine. But about Cassie--"

"I'll leave her," Match blurts before Tim can verbalize his unease. 

"Well, that's--" Is that what Tim wants? If Match is going to be Kon... "Can't you," Tim gestures at Match, frustrated, "not look like him? Just for a moment?" It feels easier to think without Kon's face in front of him.

That seems to throw Match. "I'm _supposed_ to look like him. That's the _entire purpose_." But he doesn't refuse. There's a faint glow, then the black hair fades to a nearly white blond, the blue eyes going white. He looks like someone poured the makings of a Kon-shaped human into a mold and forgot to add the color. Match holds his arms out as though to say _happy now?_

Tim clears his throat. "Better. Thank you."

"It's detrimental to our plan for me assume this form," Match says. "I should remain in Superboy's form at all times."

"You're fine like that for right now." Tim is unexpectedly frazzled, his heart rate picking up again. Match is indisputably a fake now. Tim reaches out and cards a hand through Match's hair, smooths it out of Match's eyes. He takes a step back, his hand falling to his side again. He shouldn't do that. Tim needs to stay focused. He needs to remember what this is all for.

This time Match follows him, moving one step closer. Then another. He backs Tim against the wall and returns the gesture, pushing his hand into Tim's shaggy hair, mimicking Tim with a naive curiosity. Match drags his hand back and cups Tim's face. "Is this how you were with him?" Match asks. 

Tim moves to push Match's hand away but instead wraps his fingers around Match's wrist. "No. We weren't like that." Tim didn't let himself think about it. He never would. 

"Then he's never touched you like this." Match sounds less curious now and more satisfied. "He never wanted to."

Tim squeezed Match's wrist. "No, he didn't."

"But I do." Match brought his free hand to Tim's waist. "You're so different, Tim. You saw me. None of _them_ even noticed. You're special."

Tim tries not to squirm as Match's hand squeezes his waist. "I wouldn't say that."

"I want to touch you, and he didn't," Match says. He's smiling: another real expression. But it's nothing like the carefree smiles Kon wore with ease. Match smiles with an edge of self-satisfaction. "The Agenda told me I couldn't do it."

"Couldn't do what?" Tim licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

Match's image flickers, Kon's face sliding into place like a well-fitting mask. "Want," Match says. "They told me I couldn't want things on my own, not unless they instructed me to." He ducks his head and kisses Tim, presses the long hot line of his body fully to Tim's.

Tim's brain stays online just long enough to wonder if Match learned to kiss from Cassie or The Agenda before short-circuiting. He groans, his free hand grabbing Match's shirt by the shoulder, whether to drag him closer or keep him from leaving, Tim can't say. No one's touched him like this in so long, not since Steph--

He shuts the thought down before he can finish it.

Match pulls back, rests his forehead against Tim's. "You'll help me," he says, panting, the air between them heated. "No one has to know. It can be our secret." Match seems delighted by the idea.

Tim closes his eyes. Match doesn't smell like Kon, doesn't sound like him. He barely managed to properly emote like Kon. Match needs a lot of work. 

"Our secret," Tim agrees, fiddling with the collar of Match's shirt. 

Tim knew he could fix everything. They're happy now, his team. With Match under his thumb, Tim knows he can keep them that way.


End file.
